


New Beginnings

by orphan_account



Series: Here There Be Dragons [2]
Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2513177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beginning of their relationship. T for implied sexy-times. Also on FF.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken Down and Inseparable

This is crazy. Utterly batshit crazy. After all this time. It is finally happening. William Darcy is here.

Quite literally, too. With the camera off they had collapsed into each other, lips locked together, hands exploring, trying to commit the feel of each other, lips on lips, hands running through hair, to memory. 

Becausll this time, they were together. Past the awkwardness. Past the fighting. Past the quiet, secretive glances of intense longing and admiration. 

All that was over. They had finally done it, the pent up emotion of the last year had caused the walls to collapse. And boy did they. They smashed into each other at a million miles an hour, and became inseparable. 

And so now they were together, on the floor, having neglected the skinny couch. Lizzie's hands went to cup Darcy's jaw, and mess up his hair further. She loved the silky feel of it, and the smooth, squarish shape of his jawbone.

Lizzie's hair was soft, running through his fingers like water. It was amazing. She was finally here. No more dreams. No more longing. No more wishing. Because she was here, in his arms, and he would never let go. 

This whole thing was surreal. William Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet were together at last


	2. Rumpled

Lizzie was glad that the house was empty, because they eventually had to leave the den. And it was glaringly obvious what had just happened. 

Their eyes were light, reflecting off each other, and their body's constantly were touching by either a shoulder, or a foot. Or lips. 

And right now it was all of those at once. They were pressed together against a kitchen cabinet making a further mess of each other's hair, or clothes. 

Darcy's vest and tie hung limply around his frame, the topmost buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. His hair was standing straight up from where Lizzie had run her fingers through it. 

And she wasn't much better. Her hair was in tangles, and her dress was bunched up in the most unflattering of ways. And don't get started on her makeup. 

But this view of each other, this raw, rumpled sight was what mattered most. It was the first view of each other where the outfit wasn't perfectly planned to the last detail. It was rumpled, tangled, and messy. And it made them love the other all the more.


	3. Talking and Takeout

"Lizzie," Darcy said, pulling away. "Your family. Are any of them due home anytime soon?"

"Mom and dad are at bridge club till seven. Lydia's out somewhere with Mary. So we're alone until at least seven." Then she looked at the clock. It was six forty five.

"Crap," Lizzie muttered. "Mom will be home any minute. I don't know about you, but I wanted one evening without her fangirling over my new relationship," Lizzie said.

"So we should go. Does Netherfield suit you? Or shall we go out to eat?"

"What?"

"Well I presume you have not had dinner based on the very nice note Charlotte left you. Since my abrupt arrival created this dinner dilemma I thought it only polite to offer a solution."

"How sweet if you, really. And I think dinner at Netherfield sounds amazing, especially if I get to spend more time with my boyfriend," she said with a grin.

He too, grinned broadly and said, "Take out it is then. Is there a certain time you would like to be home this evening?"

"Half past never," Lizzie muttered, then said in a normal tone said, "I mean no. I do not need to be home tonight. "

"Then," he said wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "We'll be off."

They ended up just picking up a pizza, and selecting a bottle of wine from Bing's extensive collection and settling down for a 'picnic' in the living room.

They sat on the living room floor and talked. Laughed. Lizzie teased Darcy about eating his pizza with a fork and he teased her about the odd way she ate hers. But disputed the teasing they were happy because finally, here was someone they could really understand.

And stupid things came out, cooking mistakes, childhood stories. But, there was the solemn, too. Darcy told the story of his parents. There was almost nothing Lizzie could do. After 7 years she could still hear the sound of a broken man in his voice. All she could do was wrap her arms around him, and give what little strength she had.

Eventually they veered from the sorrow. They talked about their childhood, Lizzie sharing stories of the crazy things her sisters had done. And Darcy told about himself, the times he spent in the backyard getting into trouble. Pranks he had played on his sister. And, once again, they laughed. They teased.

The pizza was gone now, and a sizable dent had been made in the wine bottle. They laughed easily now, both feeling a bit more lightheaded then normal.

But it wasn't just the wine that intoxicated them. It was each other. Every touch. Every kiss made them giddy, wanting more. Wanting the most.

Eventually it grew to late for Gentleman Darcy to allow Lizzie to go home. Sheepishly he suggested she stay with him.

She agreed.


	4. Mornings...

Faintly, through a curtain of sleep, Lizzie felt hands gently playing with her hair. The touches were tender and soft. Loving.

And, just as she was about to open her eyes and greet the morning, a kiss was pressed into her lips, it was light and sweet, tasting of sleep and morning breath.

Her eyes opened to see grey ones peering into hers. She smiled and whispered "Good morning Will."

"Good morning Lizzie," he said, a smile lighting his eyes just as hers had.

She nestled closer, sighing contentedly. He smiled and pressed a kiss into her hair, breathing in slightly the smell that always floated around her.

"You know," she said, voice muffled in the crook of his arm. "We really should get up."

"I agree completely," he said, but didn't stir. And neither did Lizzie. Today was a day to enjoy, and enjoyment meant lying in bed way longer then normal.Especially if that meant lying there, together. Happy, and blissful.


	5. The Great Netherfeild Flour War

Nobody really knows who started the Great Netherfield flour war. The only two witnesses (and participants) vie against each other. Lizzie says Darcy started it when he teased her about dancing while she made breakfast. Darcy said it was Lizzie because she had thrown the first puff of flour. But it does not matter who started the war, because it happened all the same. 

Lizzie was happy that morning. Ecstatic, really. While Darcy went to shower and change in his (gigantic) bathroom she, feeling nice, decided to get up, and make breakfast. It was a difficult challenge due to the fact there were only half a dozen eggs, a frozen pizza, assorted vegtables, and coffee in the vast kitchen. So, feeling clever, she pulled out the eggs and vegetables and began to mix up a gigantic batch of scrambled eggs. 

As she cooked she took the opportunity to sock slide through the gigantic kitchen, humming along to a song on her phone. Once in a while she would do an odd spin movement she remembered from a ballet class all those years ago (it had been a disaster). But, little did she know that Darcy leaned in the door way, an amused smile on his face. He watched Lizzie channeling the true form of her 'energetic' younger sister and said, 

"My Lizzie, why didn't you pull those moves on the dance floor at the Gibson Wedding?" 

Lizzie spun, and dropped her fork on the floor an indignant look on her face as she sputtered "Will? Ho-how long have you been standing there?" 

"Long enough to see you've got moves, Lizzie," he was laughing. "You should have just asked. I would have been honored to, as you so properly put it, 'get my groove thing on'." 

She was fighting back a smile, and reached for the first thing she could throw at him. She grabbed the flour jar and threw a pinch at him watching as it hit him directly in the face. It coated everything. His glasses. His hair. Coated his shirt. All he did was stand there in shock. 

Lizzie meanwhile was snickering, her hands clasped over her mouth, eyes shining brightly above them. Darcy took this opportunity to grab his own pinch of flour and coat Lizzie with it, coating the front of her shirt. 

She gasped and dug her hands in the flour jar, pulling out almost a handful to throw it at him. Everything slowed down as the massive front of flour flew through the air. Darcy acually yelped and threw his hands up to protect his face. This defensive move was just in time, it coated his entire forearm, plus most of his shirt beneath it. He shook his arms at Lizzie and grabbed double the flour she had, bent on revenge. 

He almost fell over laughing when Lizzie ducked sharply under the oncoming cloud, and watched it go sailing over her head, only to fall like snow on the floor. Hurriedly before Darcy could grab another handful she ran out of the room. She didn't get very far before Darcy swept her up in a fireman's carry and shook his flour coated hair all over her. 

"Put me down!" she shrieked, "I'm not some wench you can carry off as spoils of war!" 

He obeyed and smiled down at her, "I say I won that one, Lizzie, based on you fleeing in terror." 

She rolled her eyes. "There will be a rematch," she snapped. 

"I don't doubt you, but for now I need to claim my prize." 

Gently his had wrapped around her chin, firmly, and pressed his lips into hers. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I think of what Darcy would be like when he lets his anxiety go. Kind of a crackfic?


	6. And On Your Left...

"So?" Darcy asked Lizzie, "What are we going to do today?" 

"If I know," Lizzie said, "Toss me that sock will you?" 

It was still early, not yet eleven. Lizzie was finishing getting dressed after taking a shower to wash the copious amounts of flour out of her hair and clothes. Darcy was watching her, leaning back in the desk chair, feet propped up on the empty desk cubby. He looked perfectly relaxed, and happy with his broad smile that Lizzie would recognize, in time, as a smile he reserved solely for her. 

"Well," he said, "You are the expert on this town and things to do in it. It was only right of me to ask you, was it not?" 

"What do you want, a tour?" she cackled. "And on your right you will see the home where I shared my first kiss with a duchebag hockey guru named Brett Smith." 

"A tour sounds wonderful Lizzie. I would also like to meet this 'Brett Smith'. Perhaps we can form a 'Lizzie called me a duchebag but I still kissed her' club."

Lizzie snorted. There were two good jokes in that statement. A tour of her town would barely last five minutes. Her snort began to turn into a chuckle. That was, until, she realized he was being completely serious. Her best bet was to joke back: "Okay, but I'm afraid the only thing on the radio on Tuesday afternoons is the classic 'Top 40 Radio'." 

He snorted, lightly, and pushed himself out of the chair, walking over to lean in the doorway. "See you in the car in ten minutes, no exceptions. And I want our first stop to be at a cafe. I'm afraid our little 'fun' in the kitchen left me with no coffee, and no breakfast."

Lizzie followed him, protesting "It was only because you teased me. Had you not teased me the flour war never would have happened and you would have gone on your merry way with coffee, and a heaping batch of scrambled eggs." 

Their argument continued all the way into the car, and to the coffee shop where Darcy got out, protesting, "Lizzie, I will not listen to your biased nonsense. You threw the first pinch of flour, and therefore you started it." 

"I'm biased?!" Lizzie yelped, ducking through the door he held open for her, "Same can be said of you because you we-" she froze in her tracks as she saw who was standing near the counter, waiting for coffee. "Shit," she muttered. "I forgot it was Tuesday."


	7. And On Your Right...

"Dad?" Lizzie gasped, as Mr. Bennet saw them. "That's dad. That's- shit. I forgot he got coffee here before work. It's to late to run, isn't' it?" 

"I think so." 

"Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet said, walking up to them, "Good to see you again. And Lizzie, I presume I will see you at dinner tonight. Your mother will be very happy to see you, and this young man here." He put his hand on Mr. Darcy's shoulder, making him flinch, slightly.

"Good morning Dad," Lizzie said sighing. "And we'll be there for dinner. Don't worry." 

He nodded and began to walk out the door, "Good to see you kids together finally." 

"You don't happen to have plans for tonight, do you?" Lizzie asked, groaning. "Just glad it was Dad who found out. Mom would be shrieking very loud right about now."She shuddered. 

"Are you sure he won't tell her?" 

"Yes, I'm sure. " she said, then looked at him properly. "William Darcy are you nervous?" 

Indeed he was, or he seemed to be. His chin was tucked back into his neck, and his gaze was fixed on the floor. His hands, together in front of him, kneaded together helplessly. He wouldn't even look at Lizzie. 

"Stop that right now, it's just dinner with my parents. They may have their share of crazy, but you do not need to be nervous," she grabbed his hand. "I love you, and no matter what awful, humiliating things my parents say, that is the truth. And that is something I will never be ashamed of." 

"Lizzie," he breathed gently.


	8. Debating

They had a wonderful day out, full of laughter, and romance and the unadulterated happiness that came from just being around each other. It was beautiful, and it it was beyond cheesy. And both of them loved it. 

Most of this day was spent in the back corner of the town’s dusty library, each of them pulling books of the shelves, and comparing what they had found. They laughed at the pretentious titles of the romance novels, and took turns reading chapters of various classics in hushed voices. 

Then, over lunch, they began to debate. It started out with respectable topics for over lunch, but then soon devolved into the stupidest argument about, of all things, Harry Potter. 

Darcy had read them after Gigi recommended them a few years ago, and found himself hooked, to the delight of Fitz, who endlessly teased him. 

“I’m sorry Will,” Lizzie said, glaring at him, “Umbridge was worse then Voldemort by like a factor of seven.” 

“No way, Voldemort literally wanted to kill everyone. You cannot get worse then that. Umbridge was just a ministry following ditz.” 

“But why did Voldemort want to kill everyone? For world domination, right? Worse motivation ever. Umbridge wanted to control everyone, to manipulate them to think the way she thought, and besides who are you most likely to encounter in your life? A bald, nose-less freak? Or a horrible teacher that makes you do things her way, or else?” 

And it went on. In the space of one afternoon they debated every sensitive topic the Harry Potter fandom had. And they didn't stop there. Then they moved on to other books, and debated those too. And they loved it. For them it was a rush, arguing with someone who they knew was as smart, and up to date in these topics as they were. 

Lizzie got out of the car at four thirty that evening, making her last argument, and laughing as Darcy said, as she walked away, “This is not over Lizzie Bennet! I will win this debate yet, you count on it!”


	9. The Dreadful Dinner

The dinner, it turns out, was not awful. Well, not entirely awful. Yes, there was Mrs. Bennet's usual obsessions over Lizzie and her new boyfriend, but between Lizzie, and Lydia's careful interruptions they made sure that the topic of marriage was, for the most part, avoided. Lydia, of course, was another problem in herself. Whenever she spoke she would make subtle references to Lizzie's earlier videos, keeping the two of them on their toes, and blushing quite red. Several times Lizzie had to kick her sister under the table intercepting the joke before it was even out of her mouth. 

But poor Darcy, really. He was used to a little bit of oddity, it was in his family too, but this territory was entirely new for him. He was polite as ever, but slipped back into his protective shell, his chin slowly retreating into the hollow of his neck. Lizzie would catch this, every time he did it Lizzie took his hand, gently, and squeezed, whispering, "It'll be okay." 

All in all it was not the most disastrous evening. It had gone a lot better then the dinner with Bing, and Mr. Bennet even managed to drag Darcy away, and show him his magnificent collection of trains. Darcy could even make pleasant conversation with him, discussing the art of bonsai, something Darcy said, "Was an art I would very much like to get in to, if I had the time." Lizzie saved this snippet of information to tease him about later. 

And, as the evening ended, and the courtesy bottle of wine Darcy had bought was long drained, he got ready to leave. As he was putting on his shoes Lizzie slipped up next to him, and tugged her own shoes on to Darcy's amazement. 

"Lizzie, wouldn't you want to spend the rest of your evening with your family?" he asked, seemingly serious. 

"Are they leaving for LA in less then a week?" she asked, "Because you are, and I want to spend every possible second with you." 

He smiled, and took her hand, gently squeezing it. On the way out Lizzie ducked into the closet and grabbed her overstuffed laptop bag out of a closet cubby hole, and tried to slide it over one shoulder, but Darcy stopped her, and hung it off his own shoulder. 

"And people say chivalry is dead," Lizzie said, as a thank you. "So, what do you have planned for this evening? More debating?" 

"No, since you have already proved to me, almost twice over, that your family is not as bad as I once suspected, I decided I would prove something about myself to you." 

"Will," Lizzie said, "You've already proved enough to me already. Seven times over. You don't need to anymore." 

"I know," he said, "I don't need to. I would like to." 

He showed her inside the house, and into the living room where all of the furniture had been pushed to the far wall, causing Lizzie to look around in confusion. 

"Lizzie?" he asked, "Would you dance with me?"


	10. Your 'Groove Thing'

Darcy really  _could_ dance. The song he chose was a waltz, and he really swept Lizzie off her feet, utilizing every inch of space that he had created in the living room. And he was good at it, he knew moves that even Lizzie did not know, and (to her mother's insistence) she had taken several dance classes as a youth. 

"Wow, I don't see why you didn't pull these moves out at the Gibson wedding. Every girl in the room would be swooning," Lizzie teased.   
  


"I don't like dancing with people I do not know. It makes it quite awkward for me, and to have girls fawning over me would be even worse."

 

"Would you mind if _I_ fawned over you?" Lizzie asked. 

 

"Not in the slightest," he said. His teasing skills really was improving at a steady rate. Lizzie really was a good influence.

"Ooh Mr. Darcy," she said, in a falsetto, "Such strong, masculine shoulders, and such dance moves, you really could sweep a woman off her feet." 

"I am quite proud of it, Miss Bennet," he said back, then smiled at a thought. "And these shoulders also match my big, strong jawline, don't you think?" 

"You are quiet handsome," Lizzie said, her voice no longer carrying any hint of falsetto, or teasing. 

Darcy stared at her in amazement at the sudden change in her voice. "And you are quite beautiful," he said. "You're hair is entrancing, and your eyes ensnare me every time I look into them. They always have. At first, it made me hate myself. How could I love eyes that snap with anger, and hate. But I soon realized, it was not the hate I loved you for. It was the liveliness of your mind." 

"Why didn't you ever talk to me?" Lizzie asked. "I don't think I would have hated you as much, then." 

"I might have, if I felt less then I did." 

Lizzie smiled then, and realized that they had stopped dancing halfway through their conversation. For only a moment they stood admiring each other in the center of the room before both of them, simultaneously leaned in and pressed their lips together. And, slowly, the kiss grew less, and less gentle, until it was a frenzy of emotion violently expressed. Lizzie had to stop, and pull away. 

"Yes," Darcy said, answering the question in her longing eyes. 


	11. Coffee

Lizzie woke up first the next morning, and smiled in disbelief. After all this time she was here, in bed with William Darcy. Of all people. And it made her feel warm inside, like she was lit up with rows of Christmas lights all over. 

She thought of what her past self would have thought, had she known this was her future. Her face was an amusing cross between angry, betrayed, and shocked. It made her laugh. . 

And how stupid she had been. Here was a guy who loved her, pretty much unconditionally. And, Despite her earlier thoughts for him he truly was the man of her dreams. Tall, dark, handsome, intelligent. Successful. Someone who could very easily keep up with academically. She was so lucky to have not royally screwed things up so badly because, to put it simply, she loved him.

And this man, her perfect man, was now awake, his fingers lightly tracing an odd pattern on her neck, making her shiver. 

"Good morning," he whispers against her neck. 

"Morning," she says, stretching her arms up, and hearing her joints crack in appreciation. "How'd you sleep?" 

"Wonderfully," he mutters, his hands moving to get underneath her, and flip her over so he can see her face. "How did you sleep?" 

"Wonderfully," she says, laughter in her eyes. She knows that he can see it because hi eyes light up too, and for a while they remain there, wordless just staring into each other's eyes. "You know,," Lizzie said. "I can hear that coffee pot calling to me." 

Darcy smiles, "it certainly is fun getting to know you better, Lizzie Bennet. You are the first person I have met that would break a romantic moment for, of all things, coffee." 

She laughs, and he delights in it. It is a constant joy to him, knowing that he can make that joyous sound come from her mouth. 

"How about," she says, "I go brew the coffee, and come right back and we can renew the romance. And, when we are done there will be coffee." 

He laughs at the idea, but doesn't stop her as she climbs out of bed, and grabs yesterday's shirt off the back of the chair to pull it over her tank top before she is gone, and he is left to flop, sprawled out on the mattress, a dopey, love-struck grin on his face. 

She putzes with the coffee machine fir a few moments, figuring how it works, and tries to figure out where else Bing could store coffee in this massive kitchen. Then, as she roots around in (yet another) cupboard two arms wrap around her waist, and a voice teasingly says "How long does it take you to make a pot of coffee? I was getting awfully lonely." 

"Well," she says leaning back into his torso. "It would help if I knew where in this kitchen the coffee was." 

"Over here," he says, letting go of her to cross the kitchen. And it is then that Lizzie notices Darcy's shirt, or more appropriately, the lack of one. She especially notices the lean, strong movements of his muscles as he reaches up high to grasp the coffee bag, and then lower it to the counter. It is fluent, and most of all very attractive. 

"You aren't wearing a shirt," she says, surprised the words come so easily. 

"Perhaps it is because you are wearing it,” he murmured, back across the kitchen, pressing his lips gently so they landed just above the collar of his shirt, that she is, in fact, wearing. She leans into him, and rested her head against his shoulder so she can look up at him. 

He looked down at her, and smiled whispering, “You’re beautiful, you know that?” 

“I did, but it’s still nice to hear you say that,” she whispered back. 

His hand found hers and spun her around so she gasped as she was crushed in his embrace. His lips landed on various parts of her face, lips, forehead, cheek, all the while he was muttering, “You are beautiful. So beautiful. Impossibly beautiful.” 

Then his lips found hers and they shared a tender, lingering kiss that made the very marrow in Lizzie’s bones sing with happiness.


	12. Sisterly

Lizzie was slightly bummed. Darcy had left a few days ago with a long, drawn out goodbye at the airport. And she missed him. Terribly. He hasn't texted that day, but he had told her that today was a back to back meeting day. A busy one. She would hold onto the hope that she could call him tonight. 

Holding on firmly to that hope, and the steering wheel, she tuned back into what Lydia had been saying. 

"Yeah. Lizzie are you sure you okay?" She asked. "You seem kinda, spacey." 

"Yeah, it just feels like the end of something huge in my life. A stage." 

"It is Lizzie. For the past year you have been doing these crazy videos, and now you won't anymore. The end of an era, really." 

Lizzie smiled. "Yeah, I guess you're right. An end to a very long, very dramatic era." 

"And now a new one is beginning," Lydia said. "With Darcinator." 

Lizzie smiled wider then, both at the awful nickname, and at the prospect of a new era. With Darcy. 

"God, you are hooked, aren't you?" Lydia asked, laughing. 

"A bit," Lizzie said, blushing. 

Lydia laughed, and Lizzie laughed. And so they pulled into the parking lot laughing, giggling really, as Lydia teased her about being in love. 

"So, new era. I'm really hoping this new era entails a better relationship with my baby sister, too." 

"Okay, but first things first. No more 'baby sister' garbage"


	13. Okay.

6 weeks. 6 long. Long. Weeks. Full of thesis writing. Thesis editing. Crazy family. Charlotte. Phone calls. And lots, and lots of tea. 

And now they were over. 6 long weeks ago it had been a daunting mountian to conquer. Now? A hill in the past, because now there were bigger things to get over. 

A new city. A startup. VC's. Employees. Miles away from family. And it terrified her to her very core. 

She was driving away from the only home she knew. To an uncertian future. She had metaphorical hills to climb, and lots of hoops to jump through. 

But, she wouldn't be alone. Even now, driving she wasn't alone. She had a person. 

A person who was currently lost in the world of emails. Lizzie poked him on the arm, and he looked up. Startled. 

"What's up?" he asked, looking at her. 

"Freaking out. The whole driving into an unknown feature kind of scares me. But yeah, other then that. You?"

"Work emails."

Lizzie laughed, and looked over at him. He was smiling, and lizzie had a thought. Maybe, things would be okay. It would be hard. Really hard. But she had someone there for her. And as long as that was a fact. Everything would be okay.


End file.
